Bittersweet
by Magic Mind
Summary: Harry is leaving for his last confrontation with Voldemort, but he has one thing to give Draco before he goes. First Time. Harry/Draco. SLASH.


_Author's Note: _

_Something else I'd written a while back that I thought I'd post here. Enjoy!_

_***_

"Why, Harry? Why now?"

"Draco, we've been through this. I don't have a choice."

"But why _now_ ?"

Harry sighed wearily. He sank onto the corner of his four-poster and took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You know why, Draco." he said when he'd replaced the glasses.

Draco didn't answer. He stood at his place at the window, his back to Harry. His arms were folded and his shoulders squared. He knew Harry would be watching him, watching him with that melancholy stare.

Harry had been staring at Draco a lot lately.

Draco didn't meet his eyes. He remained motionless, gazing out the window. Outside, day was just turning into night. The yellows and oranges of the sun mixed with the blues and grays of a moon just below the horizon. The scene was excruciatingly picturesque. Draco wished that everything could come together so beautifully.

"Talk to me, love." came Harry's voice from behind.

Draco reluctantly drew away from the window and walked over to Harry. He was looking at the blond with upturned, questioning green eyes, his hands clasped between his knees.

Draco put his hands in his pockets, leaning against one of the bedposts. Giving Harry a small, somewhat detached smile, he began, "I just think that-" but the words caught in his throat when he saw Harry's outstretched hand, eyebrows raised invitingly.

"You want me to…"

"Come sit with me."

"On your bed."

"Yes."

"With you."

"_Yes_."

Draco took Harry's hand. He held it for many long heartbeats without moving, biting his lip. Then, taking a resolved breath, sat down next to him. Draco was not at all like his usual graceful, suave self. He was fidgeting with his hair and bouncing his legs on the balls of his feet, looking extremely worried about something. For the first time in Harry's memory, Draco seemed…_awkward_.

Harry intertwined their fingers and said softly, "Tell me, love."

Draco seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "I just think that…that now isn't the best time for you to leave."

Harry laid his head down on Draco's shoulder. His thumb rubbed comfortingly over the blond's hand. "I know. But Dumbledore says-"

"I _know_ what Dumbledore says."

"And Dumbledore knows what he's talking about."

Draco looked at the floor, nodding wordlessly.

"He's right, Draco." Harry said, "It's now or never. Voldemort is back in Little Hangleton. This is the first time in sixth months that he doesn't know that we know where he is. A chance like this might not come again."

"But why do _you_ have to go to _him_?"

"Because I can't afford to face him unprepared. This way we'll have the element of surprise."

Harry had been saying this a lot lately, but Draco knew it was only because he was trying to be positive, as a kind of motivation for himself. He would not point out the flaws in the plan, would not burst Harry's feeble bubble of self-confidence. Harry needed that, more than even he himself knew.

But privately, Draco thought that Lord Voldemort could never be surprised. By anything.

"I should come with you." said Draco.

They'd had this discussion so many times, and Draco had spoken these words so often, that Harry didn't bother to respond. Draco knew where he stood on the matter.

But Draco plowed on anyway.

"I could wait with the Order at Grimmauld Place." he said. "I could be there in case…"

_Don't say that. Harry doesn't need to hear that._

"You know what Lucius would do if he caught you. I'm not risking that." Harry told him.

"And I'm supposed to risk you battling Voldemort, is that it?"

"I don't have a choice." Harry argued. "You do."

"Of course you have a choice!" Draco told him. "You and I could leave. We could get out of Hogwarts, run away somewhere."

Harry shook his head. "Voldemort would find me eventually." he said, his voice flat. "It's my destiny, Draco."

"And what if you're _my_ destiny?"

Harry lifted his head from Draco's shoulder, looked into gray eyes.

"What am I going to do, Harry? What am I going to do if you don't come back?" asked Draco desperately, his eyes glistening with tears. "I can't go on if you don't come back."

At these words, Harry's own eyes burned.

Choking back a sob, Draco murmured, "I won't survive."

"Oh Draco," Harry said, and he threw his arms around him, burying his face in the Slytherin's neck, dropping blistering tears against his skin.

Harry wept for the sheer enormity of Draco's statement, for what it meant about their relationship. Draco honestly thought he couldn't live without Harry. That without Harry, his world would fall apart around him. Never before had Harry known someone to love him that much.

Draco felt Harry sobbing and hiccupping against him and mentally berated himself for bringing this upon him, for bringing it upon them both._He doesn't need this right now. He really doesn't need this._ Draco told himself again. Try as he might to stop them, droplet upon droplet of glistening tears slid from his cheeks to Harry's mop of jet black hair.

They remained against each other for many long minutes, with only the sounds of their muffled weeping to hear.

Then Harry pulled away from Draco, but kept his arms around the Slytherin's neck. He looked into Draco's messy, tear-stained face. His eyes were red and puffy, his hair tangled. His bottom lip was swollen from where he'd chewed on it, his skin was a ghostly pale.

In that moment, Harry decided Draco was the most precious thing this world had ever seen.

"You really do love me, then." he said, and made a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

Draco nodded, looking like he was about to start crying afresh but for the tiny smile that played across his face.

Harry reached up and cupped his face, smoothed away Draco's tears with his thumbs.

"I love you too." he said, and kissed him.

Harry moved one hand to the back of Draco's head and leaned him back, onto the bed. The pair now lay half on, half off the four-poster: everything from the waist up rested on the mattress, their legs hung gracelessly off it.

And it was into this mattress that Harry ground Draco, not with his hips, but with his kiss. His lips were insistent, demanding, and their pressure forced Draco deeper into the coverlets. Those lips pushed him to his limits, both physically and emotionally. Draco could lose his sanity in them, he feared he could lose the entire world if it meant he could keep their delicious touch. Draco feared for his life, how powerful was Harry's kiss.

But at the last possible second, Harry took his lips away. He instead pressed them against Draco's neck, leaving a sloppy trail of baby kisses in his wake. When he'd moved from the skin below one ear to the other, Harry bit down ever so gently, making Draco throw back his head with a groan.

Harry was pleased. His lips inched lower and lower until they came to the green and silver of Draco's tie. Draco felt a smile against his Adam's apple. Then Harry raised himself off of Draco, rested his weight on the arms on either side of Draco's head, wearing that same smile. Then he lifted his right hand from the bedspread, moving boldly to the knot of the tie, unfastening it while only his left supported him.

"Harry," Draco said warily.

"Shhh," the Gryffindor replied.

"But are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow, Draco." Harry said, still working at the tie.

"I don't want you to do something you'll regret."

"I'll only regret it if I don't."

Draco shivered.

Harry moved closer, spoke into his ear. "Let me do this. I don't want to leave without making love to you. Even if it's just this once."

He crawled to his knees and began to pull the curtains of one side of his four-poster shut.

When he had them shut, he lay down once more, turning back to Draco. "Please."

Draco was in limbo. Complete and utter Hell. What was he supposed to do? This kind of commitment required _time_, and Harry was leaving in less than twenty-four hours. Where would their relationship go then? Would Harry even be there when he woke up? Could he be given this golden pleasure (for Draco was sure it would be pleasurable) and expect to live without it again for six months? A year? Two years? Could he taste forbidden fruit, and then ignore his cravings for it when the tree was uprooted?

On the other hand, Draco could watch Harry leave tomorrow and regret this night forever. What if he never got another chance to make love to Harry, the only person whom he ever truly loved? What if every night after this one, Draco would think about this opportunity and feel sick about it? This would be the last time he would see Harry for a long while. Draco didn't want to face this fact, but it might be the last time that he would _ever_ see Harry. He wanted to show him how much he loved him. Sure, it would be hard, but what in life wasn't?

And without another thought, Draco pulled the second set of curtains closed.

"I'd regret it too."

***

"Have you ever done this before?" he asked, throwing one leg over Harry's hips and straddling him. He shrugged his robes from his shoulders.

"No." answered Harry. "You're my first."

Draco whispered, "You're mine."

The way Harry beamed at him made Draco sure he would die happy.

Harry picked up where he'd left off with the tie. It hung unknotted and loose under the collar of Draco's shirt, the ends hanging nearly at his waist. Harry took one and slowly pulled, watching as the other slithered higher and higher until it disappeared beneath the collar, then finally came out again. Harry dropped the tie on the floor and  
started in on the buttons of Draco's shirt, the corners of his lips curving upwards. He had dreamt of doing this for so long, and now that he was here, it was almost surreal. He was too terrified and excited and nervous and eager to really comprehend that this was _him_ doing this. This was _Harry_ unfastening stylish buttons. This was _Harry_ sliding a white shirt off white skin. This was Harry Potter taking clothing off Draco Malfoy's body.

When Harry's hands came to his belt, Draco's own hands covered them and together they slid the leather out of its snake-shaped buckle.

"A gift from my mother." Draco explained, noticing Harry studying the adornment.

"It's beautiful." Harry told him, holding the buckle at eye-level.

Draco took the belt from him gently. "_You're_ beautiful." he said, dropping the belt on the floor along with his tie.

He bit back a snarky comment about Harry's blush, instead focusing on the button and zipper of his trousers. When he had them both undone, Draco pushed the trousers as far down his hips as Harry's body would allow.

Then Harry wrapped both of his arms and one of his legs around Draco's waist, skillfully rolling the both of them over.

"Where did you learn that?"

The smile above him was mysteriously serene.

"Intuition."

Draco would have responded, if Harry hadn't at that moment sank his hands down into his trousers. Draco felt warm palms against his hips, then his thighs, then his ankles. It was one of the most delicious sensations. And to think, he wasn't even fully undressed yet.

But he was close. Harry had gotten his trousers off; they had joined the rapidly growing pile of discarded clothing on the floor. Now, there was only one thing left.

Just as Harry's fingers grazed Draco's boxers, Draco brushed them away.

"I'm almost naked," he said "and you've still got all your clothes on."

Harry wanted very much to change Draco's current status of _almost_ naked, but he was nothing if not fair, so he didn't protest as Draco moved to draw the robe from his body.

Draco was practically reverent about undressing Harry. He didn't tear, he didn't pull, he didn't even hurry. Each article of clothing, from his robe to his underwear, was carefully removed, folded, and placed on the nightstand, almost as if Draco wanted the garments to remain like this forevermore. When he was done, and Harry naked and bare, Draco sighed, long and slow and happy.

Harry was about the most striking creature Draco'd ever laid eyes on. He was glorious in his nakedness, all muscle and strong bone, solid but limber, the product of all his Quidditch years. He was the perfect contrast of light and dark. Jet-black hair and bright green eyes, bronze skin and pale lips. It was just as Draco had said: Harry was beautiful.

Draco smoothed Harry's bangs back and smiled. "Perfect."

Harry glanced down shyly. "Not nearly as perfect as you."

Then Harry's thumbs hooked underneath the waistband of Draco's boxers. Draco automatically lifted his hips up, and Harry slid them down and off. He dropped the underwear in a daze, too stunned by what he saw to concentrate on anything else. The vision that greeted him was unlike any he'd ever seen before and his mouth formed a small 'o' of wonderment.

Draco was flawless. His gray eyes glittered and danced with unadulterated lust. His hair was golden silk, fanned out around his head like a halo on the pillow. His skin held no cuts, no blemishes, not even a whisper of a scar. Harry could see nothing but fair, white skin, skin so bright it seemed to glow in the darkness of the four-poster. Draco was pure, inside and out.

Harry felt drawn to Draco's body in a way he'd never been before. In the past, this was a fantasy, an amusing thing to think about as he lay safe and alone in his dormitory. On those lonely nights, he visualized a muscular, sexy, _experienced_ Draco. But the real one, the one laying underneath him with that tiny smile, and that faint blush, was a young Draco, an innocent Draco. A virgin Draco.

Harry couldn't have imagined something so lovely.

Tucking a stray lock of hair behind the Slytherin's ear, he said as much.

Draco arched up and crashed himself against Harry in answer, kissed him with all the passion he possessed. Fevered skin met fevered skin, and for the first time, Draco understood the meaning of lust. From the moment his hips locked into place with Harry's, and their unbending arousals met, Draco knew that there was nothing better than this. Oh gods, Draco had never felt anything like it. As he ground harder, faster, against Harry, Harry ground harder and faster against him. It was totally instinct now. Draco knew he wanted nothing but sex, and he wanted it now.

Harry lips broke away from the blond's, but Draco felt them again soon enough. They were at his shoulder, leaving little sucking kisses all over. Then they followed the smooth line of Draco's collarbone, still just flirting with the ivory skin. It seemed Harry was using Draco's body as a map, dropping a kiss at every landmark. One fell on his nipple, another at his navel, a third on the corner of hip. Then Harry stopped.

He looked up at Draco from underneath his eyelashes, but the gesture didn't make him look shy, or scared, or questioning, the way Draco had always thought it did. Now, Harry looked rather…naughty. And that's when Draco knew.

Harry wanted to go down on him.

And before he had any say in the subject, Draco was gasping and feeling wet heat surround him. It was so sudden, he didn't even see Harry's head dip down, his fringe brushing Draco's stomach to take him into his mouth.

Draco suffered the caresses of Harry's lips, brushing and skimming his shaft, down to his balls and back again. The excruciating pleasure didn't end for a full minute, then Harry's mouth stilled, only to be replaced by something ten times greater. Draco felt sweet sucking, like the siphon of a baby's mouth at a mother's breast. Gratifying Life flowed from Harry's suckling, Life that Draco freely gave, and would continue to give, until his dieing day.

Draco didn't know it could be like this. Harry tongue was exquisite and skilled, and it drove him near to incoherency. Harry's tongue was relief and stimulation, excitement and exhilaration, motivation, inspiration, anticipation, liberation.

"No…no…Harry, stop." Draco choked out. Harry immediately lifted his head, took his mouth off Draco. He looked puzzled, even a little put out.

"Not like this," explained Draco. "I don't want it to end like this."

Harry's heart leapt. Draco didn't want it to end like this. Then he must mean…he must want…

"In me, Harry. I want you in me, Harry. Please?"

Harry had to scramble up and kiss Draco, lest he crow in ecstasy. Draco had asked Harry to make love to him. He hadn't demanded, he hadn't ordered, or even insisted. He'd _asked_. What is more, he said '_please_', and it sounded like music to Harry's ears.

"Roll over," said Harry. Loath as he was to part with Draco's lips, more precious treasures awaited, and Harry wanted to undergo them all.

Draco turned over and rested his cheek against the pillow with a smile.

"Just let me…do something first…" Harry murmured. Reaching across Draco, he rummaged through his stack of clothes on the nightstand until he found his robes. Hidden in one of the inside pockets was his wand.

Pulling it out, Harry whispered, "Creo lubricus."

Something immediately hit the inside of Draco's arse. It felt like a thick, slippery liquid, and made the tight ring of Draco's opening smooth. The sensation rendered Draco temporarily stunned. Just as he was becoming accustomed to it, the liquid grew pleasantly warm, almost as if a heating charm had been placed upon it.

"Again I ask, where on earth did you learn that?"

"You'd be surprised what some of those books in the Restricted Section can teach you."

Draco decided that was a conversation for another time.

"Now hang on a second," Harry told him. "this might hurt a bit."

And then Draco felt what could only be Harry's finger entering him. Contrary to what Harry had said, it didn't hurt at all. In fact, this felt good. Very good. Wonderful. So wonderful that Draco found himself arching back against the digit.

Harry grinned. His love was so handsome in the throes of passion, spread out and whimpering. He added another finger, listened to Draco gasp as it scissored and stretched him along with the first. This was a Draco no one saw, vulnerable and trusting. This was the Draco that Harry loved most.

"Ready?"

"_Yes._"

"Ohhh…Oh gods…Oh _gods_, Draco."

"Ah! _Harry_."

"Am I hurting you?"

"Just…give me a second."

"Tell me when."

"Ohhh…God…"

"So tight, so, so tight."

"So good. You feel so good."

"Draco…"

"Okay…just…move slowly…"

"Is this alright?"

"Perfect…ohhh…so perfect…"

"Oh, yes. Yesyesyes…"

"Deeper…yeah, yeah like that…"

"What are you…?"

"Squeezing you."

"Oh Merlin, don't stop."

"Faster, Harry."

"Like this?"

"Just like that. Just like that. Don't ever stop."

"Draco…I…I'm going to…"

"Do it, Harry. Let go."

"Come with me, Draco."

"Oh _Harry_!"

"Oh gods, Draco, I love you!"

Harry stayed inside him until the last exquisite second. He poured himself into Draco, body and soul. He wanted his essence inside of Draco…for Draco's essence was in him.

It was like heaven, being inside the body of his love, and it only made him love Draco more, but Harry felt himself growing weak, and he gently slid out of Draco. He laid down on his side next the blond, facing him.

"I love you too, Harry." Draco murmured, turning over to lie on his back. "I love you too."

Harry hugged Draco's middle. There was nothing like sex, he decided, and draped a leg between both of the Slytherin's. Draco felt comfortingly warm, more cozy and inviting than any comforter. Resting his head on the Slytherin's chest, he felt the dull thuds of a heartbeat coming down. Harry hummed contentedly, his bangs tickling Draco's chin, his sweat mingling pleasantly with the blond's.

Even with his upcoming confrontation with Voldemort, even with tomorrow's date with destiny, even with the fate of the entire wizarding world in his hands, his mind never left thoughts of his lover. He felt the enchanting beginnings of slumber as Draco's fingers passed lovingly through his hair. This is the only way to fall asleep…

Draco heard Harry's breathing gradually even out until each lungful of air was indiscernible from the next. He glanced down at the body lying on his chest. Black eyelashes curled up elegantly from high cheekbones, crimson lips parted slightly from each other.

Seconds turned to minutes. Minutes turned to hours, and never once did Draco drift into sleep. He lay the entire night with Harry's head on his shoulder, calmly stroking his hair. He could smell all that he and Harry made that night. From the tears they shed to the love they made, from the sounds of Harry's deep, even breathing to the way the moonlight on his face made him look like an angel from the heavens above, everything he expected to sense was there.

And there was more he didn't expect. Something felt different now. Just an hour ago, he was young, untouched, a virgin. He and Harry both were. Now, in just sixty minutes' time, they'd changed all that. Draco felt like he'd aged a hundred years. Entered a new lifetime, even. The old Draco would never lay with a boy, never even consider it. Now, Draco didn't care if the head resting on his shoulder belonged to a boy or a seven-armed cephalopod from Mars. The only thing that mattered was that he loved them.

And he certainly did love Harry, more than anything. Sometimes it scared Draco, how much and how surely he cared for Harry. He would give anything to Harry, and in fact, he'd just given him his most precious gift: the gift of himself.

_After he leaves, when will I see him again?_

What if he doesn't come back for a year?

What if he doesn't come back for five years?

Five years without Harry. Lord, that would be hard. Five years without Harry's gentle laugh. Five years without quick kisses behind closed doors. Five years without a strong hand in his. Five years without a lover's embrace. Five years without Harry…Draco didn't want to imagine it.

_What if he doesn't come back?_

Draco felt his breathing hitch at the very thought. He and Harry had just found each other; they'd been a couple barely three months. Draco'd only told him he loved him a week ago, Harry scarcely an hour ago. Their relationship was only just coming into bloom, now it threatened to be plucked away and stamped out. Draco couldn't live with that. Losing Harry now…that was too much to bear.

It wasn't fair! Harry never asked to be a hero, he never asked to be the only wizard that could destroy the Dark Lord. He didn't want to be the Boy Who Lived, he never got a choice in the matter. He didn't _deserve_ this burden!

But in his heart, Draco knew there was no other way. Harry would do this, he _must_ do this, because no else could. No one else had Harry's courage, no else matched his magical talent. Harry alone possessed that unique stubborn resolve to do the impossible, that intractable will, that made him Voldemort's equal. No one else could dare challenge the Dark Lord and hope to survive. His Harry was Chosen, was a hero, and there nothing Draco could do to change it.

Humanity needed a hero now. Against someone like Tom Riddle, only a hero could win. Draco thought about all the people depending on Harry "The Boy Who Lived" Potter. Dumbledore, for a start. Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Madam Hooch…hell, the whole Hogwarts staff. Cornelius Fudge, Amelia Bones, Strugis Podmore, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora (_Merlin_, what a horrible name.) Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle, Vincent, Greg, Pansy, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Seamus, Dean. From the shopkeepers on Diagon Alley to Harry's good-for-nothing relatives, everyone needed Harry to succeed. If Harry was the one person who could secure humanity's survival, Draco would let him. If there was one thing Harry had taught Draco, it was that one person's happiness should never come before the whole world's. Even if he had to risk the life of the person he loved most in the world, Draco would put the world's happiness first. He would surrender to the greater good, for that's what Harry was fighting for in the first place. The greater good.

Draco felt more than saw the darkness getting brighter. The light peaking out between the seams of the curtains was glowing ever clearer and even within the dark velvet confines of their enclosure, Draco knew it was now or never. The hours had trickled by faster than he would have hoped. His time with Harry was almost up. Harry had a portkey to catch, and it wouldn't wait on him, no matter how much Draco wanted him to linger.

"Harry…" whispered Draco, rubbing the brunette's shoulder, "it's time."

Half-lidded green eyes peered up at him along with a groggy voice, "What?"

"It's morning." said Draco. "Listen to the larks chirping."

"No…not larks…they're nightingales." Harry said, snuggling closer to Draco's warm body.

"What?"

"'Taws the nightingale, and not the lark."

"What are you talking about?"

Harry kept his eyes closed and chuckled. "Nothing, love. Muggle quote."

Draco shrugged. "I _wish_ it was a nightingale. That way you could stay."

Harry laughed again. "And that's Shakespeare's basic point."

"Who?"

"Never mind."

Harry arched his back and yawned, raising his arms up above his head. He stretched for a full five minutes before actually sitting up, and even then, he did so languidly. Draco found it hard to believe one could go to war so relaxed.

"Did Dobby pack my trunk?" Harry asked as he pulled his trousers on.

"The house elf? Yeah, yesterday." Draco sat up in the bed, drawing the sheets to his waist.

Harry smiled, shaking his head fondly. "I told him he didn't have to."

"He wanted to anyway." Draco told him. "He seemed really down about you leaving, depressed even."

"He'll get better. I've known him since I was twelve, you know."

"He's not the only one." Draco said, as if he hadn't heard Harry.

Harry paused in buttoning his shirt. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know how I'll go on without you."

"Draco, promise me you won't stop living while I'm gone." said Harry sternly.

"Harry, what if-"

"_Promise me_." Harry's eyes could have stared down a chimera.

Draco glanced down, averted his gaze from Harry's.

"I promise."

"Good." said Harry, returning to the buttons of his shirt.

An uncomfortable silence followed, Harry tugging on his robes, Draco picking at the hem of the sheets.

"I'll owl you the moment I reach headquarters." Harry told him when he'd donned all his clothes.

"Alright."

"Dumbledore will meet me there." Harry said, taking his wand from the bedside table, the wand that just a few hours ago had…

"Right." said Draco unenthusiastically.

Harry tucked the wand inside his robes and sat down next to Draco.

"I'll miss you." he said, taking Draco's hand.

Draco nodded with a sad smile. "I'll miss you too." he said, looking down at their clasped hands. They fit so well together, so perfectly. Draco's long thin fingers cradled in Harry's solid, strong ones, Harry's brawny hands softened by Draco's delicate skin. And this might be the last time they would be.

"God, I'll miss you." cried Draco, and he flung himself on Harry. He wrapped his arms around his neck and hugged him tighter than bark hugs an oak, hugged him like he would never let go. Indeed, he didn't want to.

"Don't go." Draco pleaded as he wept salty tears onto Harry's shoulder. "Please Harry, don't go." he sobbed.

Harry willed himself not to cry. His eyes were watering and glassy, his chin quivered, his bottom lip trembled, but never did a tear fall. Tears were weak, and he must be strong. Strong for Draco. Strong for himself. Strong for the world.

Strong for love.

He stroked Draco's hair, and set a kiss at his ear, and tried to take deep, calming breaths. Maybe with his chest against Harry's, Draco could be calmed as well.

It took a while. A long, long while. Draco didn't stop weeping for what seemed to Harry like an age, for with every wracking sob, he felt his heart break. Over and over it was like being torn in two. There was nothing he wouldn't do for the boy in his arms. To end his pain, Harry would gladly give his life, but things were not that simple. Harry was needed for more than just Draco.

Yet finally, Draco broke away from Harry, and wiped the tears from his eyes.

"It's bittersweet, isn't it?" he asked, not really wanting an answer. "This was our first night together, but it's the saddest I've ever felt. It's just…" he gulped. "bittersweet."

Harry nodded and gave him a gentle kiss.

"I love you, Draco." he said as he walked to the trunk next to the door. With a wave of his wand, the trunk shrank to the size of a shoebox. He slipped it into his robes and turned back to Draco.

"I will come back." he said, enunciating very clearly. "I _will come back_."

And, blowing Draco one final kiss, Harry opened the door, and left.


End file.
